A Strange Enough New Play On Words
by OnABadBet
Summary: Shizuo Heiwajima and Izaya Orihara wake up alone in a world where the spoken word affects your body in...stranger ways than usual. Eventual Shizaya, probably a relatively short multi-chapter fic. Crits and reviews appreciated.


When I woke up, I knew something was off.

Well, okay, I didn't know, but I had a damn good idea, if the sort of angry twist in my stomach was any indication. I may not be the brightest, but some weird-ass sense had me convinced that something either very bad or just plain strange was about to happen. And I didn't fucking like it.

I don't deal well with the unknown, in case you were wondering.

The first thing that tipped me off that I might be onto something was the feeling of being watched. And not just _watched _– fucking stared down, leered at, ogled, whatever you want to call it. And suddenly, I felt a thousand times more naked than I really was under the thin cotton sheets. Like the eyes – which is what it had to be, okay, you don't feel shit that strongly just to be _wrong _– were burning across my skin, covered by cloth or not. Laying me open. Exposing me.

The second thing (which admittedly took me longer to notice, as I wasn't really fully conscious yet) was the way the shadows in just the one corner of my bedroom were...rippling? Sort of gliding, flowing in and out of and across themselves in a really fucking creepy way.

I don't really deal with creepy, either. Exhibit A: every encounter I've ever had with that goddamn flea, Izaya Orihara.

As soon as that particularly unpleasant thought crossed my mind, I sat up, wrenching the sheet up and around my torso as I went. As I did so, the snaky little shadows gave a decidedly disturbing chuckle.

What. The. Fuck.

"Oi," I muttered, voice hovering somewhere between what-the-shit-is-this and Jesus-fuck-it's-alive, "Is someone there?"

A quiet little shudder ran through the mass of shadows. "Mmm, it really would appear so, ne? Or did that little protozoan brain of yours forget that only living things actually breathe?" I startled a bit, both at the lilting voice and the odd, unexplained little twinge that ran across my skin at the slight murmur. My upper lip curled reflexively.

Izaya _fucking_ Orihara.

"What the _fuck _are you doing in my bedroom?" I snarled, rising up and only just remembering the sheet at the last moment. I blushed, feeling even more exposed than I had when I had woken up and realized I was being watched. Which, wait – "What the fuck are you doing watching me _sleep_?"

The creepy louse stepped out of his place in the shadows, arms trembling a bit at his sides and face painted with a smile that managed to make the unhappy knots in my stomach _worse_. Nothing good came out of looks like that. Ever.

"So demanding, Shizu-chan. As for your first question, this wasn't precisely a choice I made. I, rather inexplicably, woke up here. For the second one, there's not much else to do in your little Neanderthal cave, now is there? …assuming that's where we are, of course. Hmm."

There was goddamn annoying little twinge chasing itself across my skin again. What the fuck. This just kept getting weirder. Ugh, shit. "Okay, what. Why the hell should I believe you just spontaneously showed up in my bedroom – _not _of your own creepy little accord, no less – in the middle of the night? I know you think I'm dumb or some shit like that, but you can't possibly expect me to believe that."

"I didn't _ask _you to believe me, Shizu-chan. I was simply stating a fact. So touchy," he tsked, ignoring the way his arms had begun to shake the longer I spoke to him. Which…well, that was fucking weird, but everything else seemed to be, too, so fuck it.

"Tch, whatever, flea. Okay, riddle me this. Want to explain why you're shaking like a leaf and my skin crawls more than usual every time you open your goddamn mouth?"

"Now that is one thing I have yet to figure out, unfortunate though it may be to admit such a thing."

"You mean you're actually admitting to not holding all of the answers?" I asked blandly, eyeing him nervously as he made himself comfortable in the chair at my desk.

"Now, now, Shizu-chan. I think that's a bit of a hasty assertion, ne?" He paused in his absent-minded tracing of the patterns of peeling paint on the old desk, shuddering a bit harder even as my fingers reached out to scratch an itch I couldn't even begin to locate. Shit, that was fucking annoying.

Finally focusing more of my attention to the crawling sensation on my skin, I peered curiously down at my arms and wrists, only to see…what the fuck?

Why did my arms look like I just got raped with a goddamn paintbrush?

Working graceful – much as I was reluctant to admit it – little spirals and arcs in random patterns across my hands, wrists, and arms were designs made in an unknown ink of varying hues. First of all, it looked fucking ridiculous, and second of all, _what_?

My head immediately snapped up to glare at the flea. "What the fuck did you _do to my arms_?"

He lazily raised one hand and waved noncommittally, staring with feigned disinterest at the marks covering my arms. He quirked an equally dismissive eyebrow, red eyes glinting in spite of the darkness in my room. "I haven't touched you. Like I would ever willingly touch a protozoan such as yourself. You probably carry _diseases_." The louse smirked a bit. "Like your little insect brethren."

I growled quietly under my breath before forcing myself to ignore his taunts. "I'm going to ignore that –" I paused, trying to ignore his little tremble and mocking "Aw, look, protozoa _can _be mature."

"Can you fucking shut up for five seconds, you insufferable louse?"

He leered. "That depends, ne? Try to say something reasonably intelligent that won't bore me to tears."

I gritted my teeth as another shudder raked its way up my spine. Well, at least it was leaving my arms alone, whatever it was. Good thing, too, since more of the creepy little patterns had been appearing as we spoke. I didn't think there was any canvas left.

"You know what, fuck it. If you're going to keep fucking bothering me, at least give me some clothes. You're creeping me the hell out."

Izaya stood, stretching slowly. He looked around for my closet before crossing the few steps necessary to reach it. "I can agree to that, if only so I won't have to keep pretending there isn't a disgustingly naked caveman lying in bed six feet from me." He faked a delicate shudder, cracking one blood-colored eye open to watch my reaction. "Perish the thought."

Pointedly ignoring the bait in favor of collecting the uniform bartender suit he had thrown on the bed beside me – though not without a grimace and not before futilely ransacking my closet for another option – I began dressing myself as best as I could without removing the sheet and exposing myself entirely. As I began buttoning the crisp white dress shirt, a thought crossed my mind. Maybe…I mean, my arms…"Oi, flea." Izaya looked at me expectantly as he resumed his position in my chair. "Do me a favor and take off that stupid fur parka of yours."

This, of course, excited another appropriately repulsive leer out of the flea. "Ooh, eager for some action, Shizu-chan? You're admittedly not my type; I tend to go for _humans_, not raging hormonal monsters. Bestiality is a sin and whatnot. I…appreciate the interest, however. I suppose it's flattering in its own sick little way." Black hair obscured his eyes a bit, but I could see enough to know he was vastly enjoying the idea of rejecting me. Sick freak. Since when did he care about what was and wasn't a sin? And like I would ever be interested, tch.

I proceeded to tell him as much, growing slightly more irritated at the way my skin was tingling. "In your fucking dreams, louse. Tch, a nasty little fuck like yourself…no, thanks. But as I was saying before you fucking leaped at the idea of my wanting you naked, look at this shit on my arms. Every time you talk, more of…whatever the fuck this is shows up and makes my skin itch like hell. You're still shaking like a scared dog, so how do we know it's not doing the same thing to you?" Finished explaining, I resumed the process of getting dressed. Now, how the hell was I supposed to put pants on without taking the sheet off first? Fuck.

Izaya gave a surprised little noise that made me glance back up at him. He seemed to weigh his reply before carefully conceding, "That was a…surprisingly insightful hypothesis for a monster like yourself, loathe as I am to admit it."

"Thank you, I think," I said dryly, managing to reach down far enough to pull my feet through my pant legs without losing my cover.

As soon as I had wriggled into my pants and buttoned them, I reached for my belt and bow tie, risking a fleeting look at the maggot. He had worked his way out of one sleeve of his goddamn ugly jacket and was pulling out of the other.

I noticed with no little amount of smugness that he was covered in marks that matched mine, although his were substantially more red-tinted, whereas mine were primarily a smoky, silvery bronze. He frowned down at his own arms before looking back to me, brows still furrowed. "It would appear you do have some vestigial shreds of intelligence, protozoan, although that creative leap must've caused you some lasting damage." His voice curled around the room and up my spine in a way that spoke of careless bravado, but I didn't miss the little shake in his tone. He was unnerved, too, and having a tough time hiding it. Fucking good.

I rose from my bed, curling my toes into the rough carpet and stretching my arms, enjoying the way the movement temporarily chased away the shivers caused by my marks and, presumably, Izaya's voice. When I spoke, it was at a lazy drawl, pulling my belt through the loops. "Nah, I think I'll be fine, but thanks for the concern, flea."

He curled his upper lip disdainfully, red eyes flicking to my waist so quickly I almost missed it. "That _is _a shame."

"What is?"

A quick roll of the eyes in spite of himself. "That you'll be fine. I was dearly hoping otherwise. So mean, Shizu-chan, dashing my hopes and dreams~"

"Do parasites even _have _dreams?" I wondered. Izaya smirked. "Never mind. Don't fucking answer that. Ever."

Izaya gave an exaggerated shrug, face innocently blank. As he did so, the collar of his thin black shirt began to slip down one shoulder, baring more intricately swirled skin. He scowled down at himself. "Back to the matter at hand, ne? We have no explanation for these…markings, or why they appear to grow each time one of us speaks." He gave a pointed nod in the direction of my hands, the only visible skin left besides my face (which was thankfully still unmarked, apparently). "Aside from this, I woke up in _your _filthy little lair, with no knowledge as to how I ended up here." The flea grimaced slightly before continuing. "And the marks seem to have some physical as well as visual effect, as indicated by our…ah, shaking like frightened animals, was it, Shizu-chan? Such a boring metaphor, though I wouldn't expect anything more creative from the likes of you."

"It's not my fault you remind me of a creepy-ass little Chihuahua."

"I'm _wounded_, Shizu-chan." The flea pouted, poking his lower lip out ridiculously.

"Yeah fucking right."

He shrugged again. "Anyway, I hate to ask for what will doubtlessly be an unfathomably simple-minded opinion coming from a monster like you, but I don't suppose you have any _more _theories about this…situation?" Izaya glanced down at his skin again, eyebrows drawing together in what I would call a nervous expression – if anyone else were making it, that is.

"Not really," I said slowly, looking around my room. I nearly smacked myself when it dawned on me. "But why the hell are you still even here? Why am _I _still even here? Fuck this, I'm leaving."

The flea blinked for a moment before standing and following me to my bedroom door. I sneered at the slightly bewildered look on his face. "What, can your parasitic mind not comprehend the fact that I actually realized something so simple where you didn't?"

Scarlet eyes glared up at me from under a fringe of black. "Shut up and walk, protozoan. I've dealt with you enough for today. Playtime is over."

I shrugged and obliged, opening the door and crossing my small apartment. "That's nice. It's time for you to go anyway. And never fucking come back, by the way."

"Ah, well, I guess we'll see, won't we, Shizu-chan?" The flea opened the door and nimbly pranced his way out like the annoying fucking fairy he was, tossing a nonchalant wave behind him as we went. I scowled. Wait, we'll –?

"GODDAMN IT, FLEA, I MEANT IT WHEN I SAID NEVER COME BACK." The wooden door frame began to crack a little as I tightened my fist angrily. I meekly weakened the hold, not wanting to deal with questions from my landlord. "_Fuck_."

A slightly haunting little laugh drifted up from somewhere on the streets below, letting me know the louse had heard me. Glad someone was fucking amused; I sure as hell wasn't. "Goddamn it," I mumbled again, turning and going back inside in search of cigarettes. I needed nicotine. It was too fucking early to be dealing with that shit.

As soon as I found the carton of cigarettes lying on the small coffee table, I tapped one out into my palm, held it to my lips, and flicked the lighter, breathing in deeply as it lit up. And then I just…went about my day as I would any other day off, ignoring the annoying little voice that reminded me that something had ever happened in the first place.

And, well, if the marks tracing every line of my arms and back tingled a bit every time I thought back on the weird-ass morning I'd had with the flea, it didn't mean a single fucking thing.


End file.
